


Like Brothers

by Harukami



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6639970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Kings' Rising, Damen is left with the question of what to do with Kastor's slaves.</p><p>Note: This relies on having read <i>The Training of Erasmus</i>, a short story included with the print copy of book one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Brothers

"And what of the matter of Kastor's bed-slaves?"

Damen, who could only sit in counsel for short periods before being fussed over by a half dozen physicians, was determined to make the most of it, and had been dealing so far with the complications of nobles, of guards, and so on down over the short sessions he was permitted. This question made his heart beat faster. Laurent, on the throne next to his and slumped toward him, seemed disinterested, nose buried in a series of political letters from Vere.

But Damen remembered it all too clearly: his slaves being put to death for no more reason than having been his. The other palace slaves rounded up as gifts, abused in Vere, finally rescued through Laurent's intervention—through his own willing submission to Laurent—and sent to Patras. If not home, than close to it.

Damen had vowed to get rid of slaves, after his own time as one, but getting rid of slaves straight out was impossible in Akielos. It was cruel to them, because of how they'd been raised. He was not allowing anyone new to be sent to the training garden, but the previous slaves would be slaves until they passed or until they wished to be freed. And the latter was very unlikely.

"What is being done with them now?" he asked the captain.

"They've been kept in captivity in the slave quarters," the captain said, and Damen let out a sigh of relief. His side ached.

"Bring them in," he said finally. "I see no reason to hold slaves guilty for their masters' actions." A small, soft snort from Laurent beside him. "But some may have had loyalty to Kastor that will make then unwilling to swear to our new court. Some may have been frightened by the strife here and want a quieter, more peaceful place to serve with nobles in the smaller cities. Some may even wish to leave service entirely. They have the right to have some say in it."

The captain didn't exactly look pleased with this answer, but bowed, exiting. Damen glanced aside at Laurent to see if he had anything to add beyond his nonverbal commentary, but Laurent said nothing, lashes heavy over his blue eyes as he read, as if he hadn't heard a thing.

The slaves were shown in. They were almost entirely female, with only one male slave among them; no surprise there. Like Damen, Kastor's tastes had run primarily towards women.

But it wasn't the slave's sex that caught Damen's attention. Although like the others he was submitting with perfect form, prostrated, there was something strained in him, back tense despite his ideal form, breaths coming a little too fast.

So he questioned the others first. Let them leave the room one by one after talking to them gently, agreeing to arrange things for them. As he'd anticipated, some chose to stay in his court, though he informed them gently he wouldn't be taking bed slaves. There were other nobles, however. Some wished to leave to other cities. None wished to leave service.

Finally he was to the last one, a beautiful young man with brown curls and eyes so blue that they could probably have a competition with Laurent's and come out, if not on top, at least not shamefully far behind. 

"Stand up, please," Damen said.

The slave did, again with perfect form. It was clear from the fluidity of his movements, the minute angles of his body in the prescribed positions with no variation, that he had been one of the best to graduate from the garden. Of course he would be, if he had been the rare male slave sent to a prince. 

"Your name?" Damen said.

"This slave is named Kallias," the slave said.

Kallias. It didn't ring a bell. Damen tilted his head thoughtfully; there was still something odd about him. Even if his submission was ideal for a slave, even if his expression _seemed_ perfect, Damen still thought he detected the faintest hint of tension: a nearly invisible tightness around Kallias's lips, a cold darkness in his eyes. 

"And what do you hope happens with you, Kallias?"

"It matters not," Kallias says. "This slave was expecting to be killed for having shared your brother's bed."

Damen lifted a brow. "That would be an awful lot of killing. I'm not terribly inclined to it."

Kallias raised his eyes to meet Damen's directly, and Damen wrinkled his forehead. For a palace slave, it was an _absurd_ broach of protocol, an impossible contrast to the submissiveness of his bent head and gently folded hands that he still had not moved from. "This slave," Kallias said, "knew of the plot against you before it occurred. This slave is expecting to be killed."

"You must have a death wish if you're pushing so hard for it," Laurent drawled, though he still didn't look up from his papers.

Damen said, "A slave couldn't tell anyone. You were subject to my brother. I cannot hold that against you, unless you do still personally wish my death."

"I do not wish your death, King Damianos," Kallias said. He was still looking Damen in the eye, some manic desperation in it. "But it seems a cruel joke to ask what is to become of me. The other bed-slaves were chosen by Kastor at whim. I was trained _for_ Kastor. Whose household could I be sent to? I would be a trophy for mockery, not for my skill. I have no desire to live a subject of scorn. Kill me and have done, if you would, my lord."

"Again, I would rather not kill you," Damen said. He heard it come out a little apologetically, as if he was turning down the desperate request it seemed to be. "What _can_ I do for you?"

The slave was silent. Seething, it seemed, perhaps resentful. Then, unexpectedly: "You were a slave in Vere."

"Oh yes he was," Laurent murmured. Damen pinched his thigh.

"I was," he repeated, though it was clear enough Kallias had heard Laurent. "And?"

"There were other slaves sent to Vere at the time you were. As a gift," Kallias said. "This slave wonders if you have news of any of them."

Damen's brows raised. "Surprisingly, I do. Only generally, unfortunately; I only had the opportunity to have conversations with one of them, so unless you are looking for news of Erasmus—"

Kallias's breath hitched audibly and his face seized up. He smoothed it over a moment later.

"It is," Damen said, "Erasmus you want news of. Were you close?"

Again, Kallias lost control of his face, lips twisting. This time, he didn't bother to correct it. "We were like brothers, once."

It was a symbolism that absolutely wasn't lost on either of the kings. Laurent shifted so his lounge was slightly less insouciant; Damen sat up straighter, and his side immediately made him regret it.

"You said, 'once'," Damen said. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that I betrayed him," Kallias said. "Though not as your brother had. As the Lady Jokaste betrayed you, great master."

 _That_ one didn't get lost either. Laurent said, very softly and for Damen's ears only, "I like this one."

"Erasmus had said that he had been being trained for my service," Damen said neutrally. "Though he didn't know who I was at the time. I thought it an odd miracle that he had ended up with a shipment of palace slaves instead of executed along with my personal slaves." Some hint of the old regret, the resentment at the meaningless loss of life crept back into his voice and he wasn't able to shake it. "He would have needed to be demoted before the coup."

"He shamed himself by trying to kiss me, Kastor's bed-slave. Although we were like brothers. I told the keeper on him."

"That's an interesting lie," Laurent said, but for once, Damen hadn't needed to be told.

Instead, he lifted a brow. "Ah. So you, who had knowledge of the upcoming coup and a fellow slave who was like a brother to you, had nothing to do with this demotion."

Kallias said nothing. His eyes finally dropped again.

"After learning of their mistreatment in the Vere court, Laurent kindly arranged for the slaves to be sent to Patras," Damen said. "Prince Torveld himself took a shine to Erasmus. More than simply a desire to own him, I saw that he was deeply concerned about the emotional damage from his... rough treatment. He wanted to care for him, heal him, and not take advantage of his wounds in any way. I believe you can rest assured that your friend is well-treated and in the hands of a kind master."

There was no more hint of rebellion to Kallias's pose. It was back to perfect, pristine submission. "Ah," he said softly.

"Would you like to be sent to Patras as well?" Damen asked. "I believe we could request Torveld to take you as well, if you wish it. Or his brother, King Torgeir; it sounds as though you were secretly trained for a king, not a prince."

"Sent to Patras, to sit idly by and watch Prince Torveld take the man I know as a brother, so that I can be with him again? No. The sin I enacted on him is too deep. I ask that you kill me," Kallias said again. "My last concern to keep me to this earth has been wiped away. I am ready for death."

"This is all very dramatic," Laurent said, "but perhaps give it some thought. We will write, and see if the option is open. You can always reject it."

"As my kings wish," Kallias said, and kept his head down.

***

Later, after they'd returned to his rooms, his wound was checked, and Laurent had shooed out the physicians, Laurent curled around him and said, "It would please you, wouldn't it? To see them reunited."

"It sounds like he only betrayed Erasmus to save him," Damen said. "That sort of love should be rewarded, not punished. It would be nice to see a pair of 'brothers' make it through."

"Oh, did you buy into that?"

"I beg your pardon?" Damen asked, tilting his head up. 

Laurent was grinning as he dropped a kiss on Damen's mouth. "I'm sure the fantasy appeals to you. One slave raised for you, another raised for your brother, and the two of them like brothers themselves. That your dream failed, but perhaps theirs could be achieved, albeit with a different pair of brothers."

"You're getting at something," Damen said, "but I can't quite ferret it out."

"I said it in the hall. That he was lying."

"About Erasmus kissing him and shaming himself, rather than Kallias deliberately doing it to _Erasmus_ to get him demoted—" 

"About," Laurent said, "Kallias loving him like a brother."

"Ah," Damen said.

Laurent dropped another kiss on his mouth; this time, Damen kissed back, lifting one hand up lazily to tangle in Laurent's hair.

"I'll write a very nice letter to Torveld," Laurent said, against Damen's mouth. "You know he's fond of me."

"I'd rather not think on it," Damen said. "Think you can move around so we can do this without straining my wound?"

"I think," Laurent said, "that you can hold still, and keep your hands to yourself, and that's the safest way to keep your wound safe." 

Damen began to protest, but as Laurent moved around and slid to his knees, he realized that Laurent wasn't denying him at all.

***

Kallias remained in the slave quarters until the letter came, and was brought out to receive it. The time spent thinking about the possibility had apparently done quite a number on him; he was still perfectly poised, the ideal slave, but his eyes snapped to the letter Laurent was reading and he began to breathe visibly fast.

"Goodness," Laurent said, as if he'd just read it for the first time, which was an absolute lie because they'd both read Torveld's letter itself as soon as it had arrived, and the smaller missive inside, to confirm whether they'd have bad news to break to Kallias, or good news. Though Damen wasn't sure whether Kallias would take either as good or bad, under the circumstances. "Well, this is interesting. Torveld is perfectly willing, and thinks his brother would be interested to receive a new slave if you found him a better fit than Torveld himself. But look at this: he wasn't the only one who wrote back."

He didn't torture Kallias any longer, just stretching one of his long arms to hold the inner letter out. Kallias knelt to receive it, hands over his head. For a long moment, it didn't look like he'd lower his arms to read it.

Finally, as if having to force his limbs to obey, he did, unfolding it and pulling it down it to where his eyes were already lowered. 

The letter had been short, easy enough for Damen to remember:

_Kallias, come home to me.  
You'll love it here, Kallias, please._

It shouldn't take Kallias a long time to read at all, but he stared at it as if he had forgotten all the skills he would have been taught in the gardens.

And then he really did seem to, his practiced form vanishing entirely as he pressed his face into the letter, inhaling it in great gulps as if trying to catch the scent of the writer as the parchment caught his tears.

"Oh," Kallias said, soft and wet. "Please."


End file.
